w, the hours of the bleak winter night wore
on, and three o'clock of a new day struck before the solitary watcher
went to bed.

The Scotch baronet was not kept long in suspense. Next morning, as Miss
Danton came down the stone steps, with something in a paper parcel for
her poor, sick pensioners, Sir Ronald Keith joined her.

"I have passed a sleepless night," he said. "I shall never rest until I
have your answer. When am I to have it, Kate?"

Her face turned a shade paler, otherwise there was no change, and her
voice was quite firm.

"Now, if you wish."

"And it is yes," he cried, eagerly. "For Heaven's sake, Kate, say it is
yes!"

"It is yes; if you can take me for what I am. I don't love you; I don't
know that I shall ever love you, but I will try. If I marry you, I will
be your true and faithful wife, and your honour will be as sacred as my
salvation. If you can take me, knowing this, I am yours."

He caught her in his arms, and broke out into a torrent of passionate
delight and thankfulness. She disengaged herself, cold and very pale.

"Leave me now," she said. "I must go to the village alone. Don't ask too
much from me, Sir Ronald, or you may be disappointed."

"Only one thing more, my darling. Your father is to be married on the
twenty-fourth. I am sure you will have no wish to linger in this house
after that. Will you not dispense with the usual formalities and
preparations, and be married on the same day?"

"Yes, yes," she said, impatiently; "let it be as you wish! What does it
matter? Good-morning."

She walked away rapidly over the frozen snow, leaving the successful
wooer to return to the house and relate his good luck.

CHAPTER XIX.

VIA CRUCIS.

So once more Miss Danton was "engaged;" once more preparations for a
double wedding went on; once more her wedding day was named.

There was very little noise made about the matter this time. Father
Francis and Doctor Danton were almost the only two outside the household
who knew anything about it, and somehow these were the very two Kate
herself wished most to keep it from.

She was ashamed of her mercenary marriage; in spite of herself she
despised herself for it, and she felt they must despise her for it too.
She shrank away guiltily under the clear steadfast, searching gaze of
Father Francis, feeling how low she must have fallen in his estimation.
She respected and esteemed the priest and the Doctor so much, that it
was humiliating